


Warfare And Wanderers

by Cerdic519



Series: The Dashwood Inheritance [4]
Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Crobby - Freeform, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, Devonshire, Difficult Pregnancy, England (Country), F/F, F/M, M/M, Napoleonic Wars, Omega Castiel, Period Typical Attitudes, Reconciliation, Sense and Sensibility - Freeform, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-05 19:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: An addition to mySense and SensibilityDestiel (I blame Jane!). It is 1815, and after over two decades of war, Europe and the world are at peace - for now. Four years on from Castiel Ferrers' unexpected inheritance he and Dean are now raising their growing family at Darkside. The Continent of Europe is finally at peace, the French Emperor Napoleon having been banished to the tiny Italian island of Elba, and the conclusion of the war with the United States has left Great Britain relatively undamaged by the decades-long war, set to rule the waves and expand its Empire overseas. But dark skies still lie ahead – quite literally – for the people of the now peaceful Culm Valley......





	1. Hullo, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rkascendant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkascendant/gifts), [Darmys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darmys/gifts), [lizerd70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizerd70/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Winter is drawing to an end in the Culm Valley, and its people look to celebrate their first full year of peace for over two decades. Yes, a hard-won peace to be followed by a quiet, uneventful year.  
> 
> 
> Ah.....

This story begins with both an arrival and a departure, of very different ilk. The arrival would not be known for some time to the people of the rural Culm Valley, though its effects there would be felt across the Continent. The departure was more immediately felt on a local level though (and this has to be said), it was not exactly mourned.

Castiel Ferrers smiled as he held his omega son on this particular morn. Cassiel had arrived on Earth some ten months ago, after what had been far and away the omega's most difficult birth (he still blushed at the language he had used to his husband at the time), and Pamela Barnes had strongly advised that the couple wait at least two full years before trying for another child. Castiel had been upset at that, but the fact that his once-regular heats had since become highly erratic had driven the point home to him; his body needed time to recover. And Dean – well, as an omega Castiel had ways of dealing with his alpha that do not belong in a story like this, thank you very much! Fortunately the couple's belated move into a Darkside that had been heavily rebuilt had distracted the both of them.

What was left of Castiel's husband was still in bed with a dopey smile on his face, which was quite impressive for ten of the clock. Dean would need distracting today, because for all his public diffidence, Castiel knew that this St. David's Day would be a difficult one for him. For his brother, whom he had both raised and at one time trusted only to be betrayed by him, was leaving. For America.

Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Ferrers were still living in what the latter had described to her maid as 'a hovel' in Barton Parva. Castiel had been grateful that Dean's mother Mary, down in Exeter, had agreed not to try to effect a reconciliation between the brothers; like her son-in-law she agreed that the wounds were too deep, and that perhaps time might heal them. However, three years ago Samuel Ferrers had purchased a property in the United States, and announced his intention to move himself and his family there. The short war between the two countries pursuant to the French Wars had delayed that, but today he was leaving for Bristol and the ship to the New World. And he would not be coming back.

Dean had, in public at least, feigned complete indifference to his brother's going, but Castiel knew that he had been upset by it. So he had made Arrangements....

+~+~+

As the omega had predicted, the smell of food was sufficient to lure Dean out of bed, and the alpha yawned as he ate, sending an occasional loving look across to the table. 

“Want me to feed the rug rats, Cas?” Dean asked. Castiel smiled.

“Not today”, he said. “You are going out.”

Dean frowned. He did not have anything planned, he was sure.

“Where?” he asked.

“The carriage is outside, ready to take you to Barton Parva.”

The alpha's eyes widened.

“Cas....”

“This may be the last time you ever get to see your brother”, Castiel said firmly. “If he goes without you at least making an effort to establish peace between you, you will always regret it. And I know that he cannot leave his house until his agent arrives with the papers tomorrow, but has already sent his ghastly wife on to Bristol, so you will 'miss' her. Finish your food, get dressed and be off with you.”

The look of complete adoration he got from across the table was almost too much. 

“Love you”, Dean muttered. “Even when you order me about like that.”

“Especially when I order you about like that”, Cas grinned. “And when you come back.... well, I am sure that I can find some way to mark the occasion.”

He was not sure which was more pleasurable, the sharply widened eyes or the sudden increase in the alpha's breathing.

+~+~+

“No-one likes a smirking omega, you know!”

It was three days later. Dean had returned happy from his short trip, and Castiel had made sure that his return had been duly 'appreciated'. Hence why Charlie had called to find the master of the house snoring on the couch. 

“How are your own plans progressing?” Castiel asked. 

“We finally secured that cottage up by Windermere”, Charlie sighed. “Thank you for your help, by the way. Honestly, agents these days don't move unless they have either the Fear of God or some bossy omega telling them what to do.”

“Dean quite likes it when I tell him what to do”, Castiel grinned. She wagged an admonitory finger at him.

“No details!” she said firmly. “We are moving in May, once we have everything we need. Or at least I am moving; Dot is going this week to start getting the place ready.”

“We shall both miss you”, Castiel said, a little sadly. “But we are glad that you are happy. I shall ring for some tea, cakes” - he hesitated - “and pie.”

“What?” Dean yawned, dragging himself upright, then looking in confusion as his mate and his friend both fell about laughing. “What?”

+~+~+

The Importation Act. An innocuous sounding name, but Castiel was more than learned enough to realize that it spelt trouble. 

It was nearly spring, and Lord Liverpool's Tory government had decided to mark the season by passing what some in the press were calling 'the Corn Laws'. As a major landowner Castiel should have been in favour of this, as the taxation of imported grain and wheat until the home-grown produce reached a set price would make him a lot richer. But he foresaw that the people who would ultimately pay for this were those who could least afford it, and that many of his fellow landowners would not care about their tenants' sufferings if it meant extra pounds in their own pockets.

“Is there a problem?” Inias asked, as he suckled the latest addition to the Howard household. He and his husband Fitzalan had moved into Iverton House in Barton Ferrers, and had had an alpha (Alan) and a girl (Angela) before the beta (Ion) that he was currently holding. It had been a difficult and draining birth, and Inias' husband had said that they would not be having any more children until the omega was ready, even if that meant never. Castiel thought privately that his friend still looked pale, but did not of course say as much.

“Is the house all right?” he asked. Castiel had paid to have the house fitted out for his friend, knowing an omega designer who knew how to make buildings more omega-friendly. 

“It is fine”, Inias sighed. “Especially as I know that this is probably it for our little family. Thank the Lord that Fitz has his alpha heir.”

“Yes, alphas are easy to please in that way”, Castiel smiled. They had all been lucky in that way; Gabriel had provided Lucifer with one alpha heir, whilst Samandriel had gifted his husband Chronos two. 

“So”, Inias pressed. “Is something the matter?”

“It is these Corn Laws”, Castiel said. “They are going to push up the price of grain for those who can least afford it. 

“You mean keep it up”, Inias said. “I suppose that now we have peace, prices will settle back down again, and all the landowners in parliament want to keep making money.”

Castiel would have said that such a remark was both caustic and sarcastic, but unfortunately he suspected that it was all too true. 

“Well, I am not going to stand for it”, he said firmly. “I will be selling my grain at a fair price.”

“Then you will have a lot more customers”, Inias prophesied. Castiel nodded.

“At least we are not going to have any more wars any time soon”, he said.

Ah.

+~+~+

A week later found Castiel sat in the huge bay window overlooking the front of the estate. He had been looking at plans to separate off part of his lands to allow for more houses to be built in Dark Barton, although he knew that he would have to be careful over such things. Sir Robert Middleton had done something similar up at Barton Ferrers, and had been grievously displeased when, in lieu of the small terraces that the developer had promised, several large town houses had started to appear. The developer had been forced to stop work and replace them with the type of houses that his employer had actually wanted.

The sound of laughter distracted the omega, and he looked out across the approach to Darkside to see his husband and eldest son approaching. Scaden was nearly five now, and physically was the image of his alpha father, something Castiel knew that Dean was both immensely proud of and shy about drawing attention to. Like him, Dean loved all their children, but Castiel knew that it was only natural for an alpha to feel a little extra love for his alpha son and heir.

Soon there was the unmistakable sound of said alpha son and heir trying to demolish the main staircase as he ascended to his room. Dean entered and kissed his mate, but Castiel sensed immediately that something was wrong. 

“What is it?” the omega asked anxiously.

“News has just reached the village”, Dean said, looking worried. “A ship got into Exeter from France, and they're rushing the news to London in case they haven't heard yet.”

“Heard what?”

“Boney is back in Paris! King Louis has fled, and war is inevitable.”

Castiel groaned.


	2. Feeling The Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Charlie's departure to join Dorothy in the Lake District is overshadowed by the gathering storm clouds in Europe. Once again Napoleon defies expectations and strikes out in attack, but in a close-fought encounter he meets his Waterloo at, uh, Waterloo, and driven from the French throne for the last time. And the horrendous cost of war is brought home to one resident of the valley in particular, whose life will change forever.

Dean stared at his mate in surprise.

“Pie?” he asked. “On a Monday?”

Castiel chuckled.

“I thought that what with seeing Charlie off yesterday, you could use a little cheering up”, he said. “And once they have had a couple of years to settle in, we could take a holiday in the Lakes and visit them.”

Dean smiled at him. Yes, he would miss having his red-headed friend around, annoying as she often was. The two girls had purchased a large seaside house which they were turning into a hotel, and Castiel's and Dean's 'wedding' present to them both had been to fund that change. Dean was sure that it would be a success. 

Castiel left his husband to his pie, crossed to his chair and sat down with the newspaper.

“The news from the Continent is still uncertain”, he said. “They are unsure whether Bonaparte will stay on the defensive around his great forts, or strike out and try to destroy one of the armies against him.”

The omega smiled as the happy (and loud) noises from the table indicated that he could not expect a response any time soon.

“I myself think he will attack Wellington”, he said. “Not only because his force is smaller, but because it is a polyglot one, and he might think it would fall apart more easily. What do you think, Dean?”

“Mphm?”

“Yes, you may have a second slice.”

The look of adoration he got for that statement was very rewarding. Besides, he had one or two ideas as to help his husband work off those extra pounds later.....

+~+~+

Of all the places Dean might have expected to find himself some five weeks later, spending a week in Barton Park had not been one of them. Unfortunately one consequence of his mate's recent difficult birth had been irregular heats, and the day before, one had arrived without warning. And because Castiel's heat scent filled the house, Dean had immediately decamped with his young family to his friend's house for the duration.

Sir Robert had of course been more than happy to put them all up. 

“I have not seen Rowena about lately”, Dean observed. “Is she well?”

The nobleman scratched his beard in thought,

“She had been seeing this young man from town”, he said. “Odin Crossdale's youngest, Baldur. But he was shipped off to fight Old Boney, and she is.... well, anxious.”

Dean was a little surprised. Mrs. Shepherd was not known for forming any serious attachments to her, ahem, numerous acquaintances. Serious as in longer than a couple of weeks at most.

“Baldur is the dark-haired one?” he asked, trying to remember. “I always thought it an odd name, although Cas said his personality was closer to his namesake that his appearance.”

“Very observant, your omega”, Sir Robert said. “Yes, Baldur worked as a relief gatekeeper one time for me, which was how she, ahem, 'met' him. I had started to wonder at any relationship of hers lasting so long. Even Crowley is worried.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the aforementioned omega, who staggered into the room looking exhausted. He stared at Dean accusingly.

“Your children!” he said firmly. “I do not know where they get the energy from!”

Dean smiled, although he knew that the omega's often carefree attitude was rubbed raw over that point. He and his husband would have liked to have had children, but doctor after doctor had warned that the risks were just too great for the omega. At least he had his stepchildren.

“I always find them easy to handle”, Dean said off-handedly. 

“That is because you and your mate have several hundred staff to take care of them”, Crowley snarked, even though they both knew that was far from the truth. Castiel fretted almost every day that he was not spending enough time with one or the other of their children, whilst Dean was more concerned in trying to avoid 'going all alpha' and spending too much time with Scaden. 

“Is there any more news from France?” Sir Robert asked, as his mate nuzzled affectionately into his neck. Such a gesture was, Dean knew, usually frowned upon in polite society, but he knew how the omega needed such affection after all he had been through. Crowley growled his displeasure at having to stop his attentions, but eventually drew back.

“There are rumours that Boney won his first encounter, and that Wellington has fallen back towards Brussels”, he said. “Worse, that the Prussians have not yet joined him.”

And that, Dean knew, was very bad.

+~+~+

A week passed (and thankfully so did Castiel's heat) as the people of the valley held their breath to await the news from the Continent. The reports of the initial clash between the armies had been confused, but it was clear that it would boil down to if Wellington and his smaller army could hold Napoleon's larger one until the Prussians weighed in. Otherwise the Little General would be in Brussels, and threatening to mount an invasion of England again.

News finally came in the form of the Bristol coach, which had been considerably delayed as they had been held over at every stop to relay what had happened. Castiel happened to be at the Road House when it arrived, and went out to hear the news.

“A damn close thing”, one driver said, as the other frantically passed out newspapers. “But Wellington held him, just, at some place called Waterloo. Boney's fleeing back to Paris now, and the Allies are closing in on him. He's finished.”

Castiel was distracted by one of the returning passengers, who looked vaguely familiar. Then he recognized him; it was Baldur Crossdale. The tall young man looked confused and dazed, as if he was not sure where he was. 

“Baldur?” Castiel said, ushering him away from the hubbub around the coach.

The soldier looked at him blankly. 

“Let us get you home.”

+~+~+

“It was horrible!” Castiel told his husband later that day. “All the way home, and even when he met his father and brothers, nothing. Not a word, not a reaction. It was as if he was in a world of his own.”

“How come he is back so soon?” Dean wondered. “Surely they cannot be shipping any troops back as yet?”

“He showed me his papers”, Castiel said. “Apparently he was caught in an explosion at Quatre Bras, a skirmish before Waterloo. Wellington's ability to organize so quickly is one of the things that make him a great general.”

“Will the boy recover?”

“I do not know”, Castiel said anxiously. “I hope so. Oh, and there is a letter from your half-brother. He is now the father of a bouncing baby alpha, whom they are planning to name Arthur as he was born on the day before the great battle.”

“I rather think that there will be a lot of Arthurs this year”, Dean grinned.

+~+~+

It was two weeks later, and Castiel and Dean had been invited to dinner at Barton Park. As they drove up they noted that as well as Baldur, three other ex-soldiers were working on the front gardens. Mrs. Shepherd had been watching them, and came over to join them.

“It is quite disgraceful!” she thundered. “This dreadful government will barely lift a finger for soldiers with physical injuries, and a letter I got back from London yesterday said that men suffering like poor Bay should just 'pull themselves together'. They even closed down that hospital that I worked at in Bristol.”

“I am surprised that somewhere as large as Bristol or Exeter does not have a place for our brave men”, Castiel said. “Now that the war is almost over, I really think more should be done.”

“The government will be too busy setting about enriching themselves again”, she said bitterly. “If this was not such an out of the way place, I would start a hospital right here.”

“Why do you not?” Castiel asked. She looked at him in confusion.

“Pardon?”

“Why do you not?” the omega repeated. “We have a decent coach service to Exeter, Bristol and London. Former soldiers with any injury – physical or mental – could come here and be looked after, in a much healthier environment that one of our dirty towns.”

She smiled at him.

“If I ever find a few thousand pounds lying around the estate, Castiel, it would be my first priority.”

“Well, your stepson's mate and I are both men of means”, Castiel said, to her obvious surprise. “And I am sure that Colonel Brandon, being ex-military, would take an interest as well. The three of us could find you somewhere in the area that would be suitable.”

She looked at him in shock.

“You would do that?” she asked at last. The 'why' was unspoken, but clear. Castiel smiled.

“All that money is very well”, he said, “but I would rather do at least some good with it. In ancient times I could have endowed an abbey or monastery that would have provided some local services. This, I think, would be something worth doing.”

Dean turned away to hide a smile that, for the first time he could ever remember, Mrs. Rowena Shepherd had been rendered totally speechless.

+~+~+

“I know that some people in the area will be against the idea”, Castiel said as they lay together later. “Especially when they come to understand that some of the soldiers have mental problems. But these men have to be somewhere, and in the time it will take to set things up we should be able to find doctors who can treat them with the care and attention that they deserve.”

“It will also probably annoy the government”, Dean pointed out. “Particularly when the papers compare their inaction to your noble deeds. They will say something like 'Lord Castiel delivers, Lord Liverpool does not.'”

There was a silence from next to him, but even before he turned to look Dean could detect the change in the omega's scent. Castiel rolled atop of him, and grinned evilly.

“Then let me make sure that such a headline would be accurate!” he said darkly.

Dean gulped.

+~+~+

Luckily Castiel did not forget to leave the cushion on Dean's chair the following day. He did notice the smirks that the servants were very careful to keep hidden from their alpha master.

“Good news today!” Castiel said a little more loudly than necessary, smiling at his husband's wince. “Our troops have entered Paris, and restored King Louis. Hopefully he will be able to keep his throne this time.”

“Must you be so loud?” Dean groaned. “Oh my poor head!”

“I would have thought the other end was a more pressing concern”, Castiel snarked, noting as he said it that the maid in the room – Betty – barely managed to hide her guffaw before fleeing to the kitchen. 

Dean lowered himself gently onto his cushion, sighing once he was down. Then he looked pitifully at his omega, who sighed.

“I suppose you will want your poor, downtrodden omega mate to fetch you your breakfast from the far, distant serving-table”, he said, mock sighing in a put upon manner. “I do all the work around here.”

He fetched Dean a plateful of food, with rather more banging of crockery and cutlery than was strictly necessary. He could see that his husband was torn between thanking him for the food and complaining about the noise, but in the end all he got was a grunt as Dean fell to work.

Castiel wondered when would be a good time to remind his husband that he had promised to ride his new horse all the way up to Delaford so Colonel Brandon could see him. Although if he was feeling merciful, the omega might let his husband send a servant with it instead.

Then again, he might not.......

+~+~+  
Prussia, a state based originally around Königsberg (now Kaliningrad, a Russian enclave between Lithuania and Poland). It had expanded rapidly to rival Austria as the dominant German state. Although easily crushed by Napoleon, just over fifty years later it would defeat both Austria and France to form what was a united Germany in all but name, carrying their land-hungry ways into the twentieth century with disastrous consequences for the world.


	3. Doctor's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Medical matters continue to dominate the affairs of the denizens of the Culm Valley. The government proves as effectual as governments usually do, a site is selected for the ex-soldiers, someone ends up in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and there is a truck with no wheels. To cap it all, the best-laid plans of mice, men and omegas are wont to go awry when someone unexpectedly feels the heat.

Castiel looked up in surprise.

“You are leaving the area?” he asked. Pamela Barnes shook her head.

“It is this new law”, she said. “The Apothecaries Act. It requires all those who practice medicine to have six months training in an approved hospital. Something I, as you may guess, do not have.”

Castiel thought quickly.

“But you could get it”, he said. She looked at him in surprise.

“How?” she asked.

“I am helping Mrs. Shepherd set up an establishment for soldiers injured in the recent wars”, Castiel said. “I am sure that Dean could use his influence with his alpha political friends to get it listed as an official hospital. You could help out there for six months.”

“That would be very good of you, Castiel”, she smiled. “I wish I had better news about your heats, but it seems that they will continue to be irregular for about another year. But you coped with the last one?”

“Only just”, Castiel said. “Luckily it struck when Dean was out; I yelled at him when he was returning across the drive, and he kept clear. He sent Crowley over later to collect his clothes and the children.”

It had been a horrible week for Castiel, he remembered. A heat overrode his natural maternal instincts most of the time, so he swung from desperately missing his children to desperately wanting Dean to... well, to.

“Have you considered Lavender Hill Farm?” Pamela asked.

“Considered it for what?”

“As a possible site for your hospital”, she said. “We know it will be mostly for those soldiers whose problems are more mental than physical, and they will need something to occupy their time. The Smiths are moving to Exeter.”

“That is a brilliant idea”, Castiel said. “Thank you.”

+~+~+

Dean stared suspiciously at his mate. 

“From the French 'troquer', meaning to barter”, Castiel said. 

“I know what a truck system is”, Dean said. “It just seems so... backwards. I would not have thought that you of all people would have been supportive of such a thing.”

“I have my reasons”, Castiel said. “I had a visitor whilst you were out greasing the palms of your fellow alphas at the town hall. Mrs. Moseley called.”

Dean gulped.

“Please tell me it's not too bad”, he bit out.

Castiel hesitated.

“It could be very bad”, he said. “She foresees a complete harvest failure next year. So that is why I thought about a truck system.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it”, Castiel said. “I have thought for some time that we need a large food store in the area, as there is nothing between Exeter and Taunton for when times are bad. And these Corn Laws are going to drive up the prices that the poor people have to pay, so I thought of having our own stockpile for them.”

Dean suddenly got it.

“You are a genius!” he praised. “I see it now. You can hardly sell at below market price without having people piling into the area – but if the estate workers and their families get a truck token for grain as well as their pay, they alone can get a discount down to a fair price.”

Castiel nodded.

“And I thought we could also use the soldier's farm as the granary”, he said. “People will be a lot more wary about trying to snaffle extra grain for themselves with a lot of soldiers around, weapons or no weapons.”

“You are so smart!” Dean said.

“I know”, Castiel sighed. “It is a cross that I just have to bear. Just as you will have to bear having a celebratory pie tonight for supper....”

“Yes!”

+~+~+

It was only a month on from Mrs. Moseley's visit, and Castiel found it hard to believe how quickly things had subsequently fallen into place. The Smiths had been more then willing to sell him their farm, and although some local builders had sniffed at Castiel placing Mrs. Shepherd in charge of the transformation, he had made clear to them that they could always take up any concerns with his alpha husband. One had, and had (briefly) regretted it.

There were now eight former soldiers working on the transformation, as Colonel Brandon had used his contacts within the local regiments to find four more men whom he thought might benefit from the new hospital. Castiel's only real fear had been all the gossip that the place might attract, but fortunately something else had distracted the local gossip mongers. 

“His what?” Dean asked.

“Technically his half-great-niece”, Castiel said. “Her name is Lady Naomi Richmond, she is twenty-six years of age. It is all very complicated; Bobby's father Sir Stephen had an illegitimate daughter Rose, her daughter Mavis married Lord Cornelius Richmond, and Lady Naomi was their only child.”

Dean frowned.

“The name seems familiar to me”, he said.

“It was a big scandal at the time”, Castiel said, “and when Lady Naomi was presented, of course the newspapers dug it all up again. Lord Cornelius was over double his new wife's age, and Lady Mavis doubtless expected to outlive him and enjoy all his wealth.”

“Miaow!” Dean teased.

Castiel just looked at him.

“All right, I guess you are correct on that one”, Dean admitted. 

“Unfortunately she did not account for a cholera outbreak which hit the city the week after her husband's funeral”, Castiel said.

“So why has her daughter come here?” Dean asked. “I would not have thought that she would want anything to do with Bobby, surely, especially with his own succession assured?”

“She is engaged to Mr. Alastair Campbell”, Castiel said, curling his lip in disdain. “As an omega, I generally like betas, but he gives them a bad name.”

“I remember now; his father Lord Azazel bought Stoke House, not far from Sammy and just over the border in Somersetshire”, Dean said, his face darkening at the memory. “We went there one time, and Alastair made a pass at you.”

“I offered to pay for a doctor to reset his arm”, Castiel said. “Apparently he had turned his attentions elsewhere, and from what I read about Lady Naomi, they will be well matched!”

“Miaow!”

“And talking of cats, it is my birthday tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

Castiel looked at his husband, then across to the Special Compartment in the locked writing-desk. Dean gulped. That was where his mate kept the Collar (amongst other things), for when his alpha was not behaving the way that he dem... asked. It looked like it was going to be a long, hard night.

With any luck!

+~+~+

They were leaving the church after the Sunday service when Castiel noticed something. Three of his estate workers seemed to be having a minor argument over something, and they kept looking at him in between their bickering. Eventually one of them – Aumary de Montfort, Castiel remembered – walked slowly towards him. He heard the barely suppressed growl in his husband's voice before he felt the arms wrap around him; the other alpha hesitated and looked set to make a run for it.

“Dean!” Castiel said reprovingly. “What is it, Aumary?”

The young alpha still looked terrified. Dean nuzzled the omega's claiming mark, but was very clearly keeping one eye on the approaching threat.

“Begging your pardon, sir”, the young alpha said tremulously, “but some of us have heard a rumour that you were going to replace our wages with truck.”

“That is untrue”, Castiel said calmly. “Dean!”

His husband reluctantly took a step back, but continued his low growl.

“Thank you, sir”, Aumary said.

“What I am planning”, Castiel continued, “is that in addition to your wages, which I will review at the end of the year as per usual, you will also receive a truck token. As you probably know, I have purchased a lot of grain because I think that the new law will push prices up. If it does, then those who have a truck token may produce it and buy their grain at the original price, plus transportation costs. I do not want any of my estate workers to go hungry this winter.”

Aumary smiled.

“Thank you, sir. I knew you would....”

Uh oh. In his relief he had inadvertently taken a step forwards, and Dean let out a snarl which echoed around the courtyard, making several people jump. The other alpha yelped in fear and sprinted away as fast as his legs would carry him. Castiel stared reprovingly at his husband.

“Home time, I think”, he said, before adding in a low voice, “and you will go to Aumary's house and apologize later. Will you not?”

Dean blushed.

“Yes, Cas”, he muttered, staring hard at the paving stones.

+~+~+

Perhaps a statue, Dean had teased before heading off for his bath. Castiel had glared after him, but he had wondered... an omega statue? Because if Mrs. Moseley was right (and when was she ever wrong?), then the gratitude that his estate workers had shown for being able to afford the extra grain they had needed this year would be even greater twelve months from now.

The omega wondered idly if he could get someone to design a statue of him with Dean at his feet, looking up with the sort of beseeching look he usually reserved for sex. Or pie.

It was unusually warm for early December, Castiel thought, shifting uncomfortably on the bed as he read the newspaper. The government, possibly getting something right for once, had decided that the safest place for the deposed Napoleon was not an island a few miles off the European coast like Elba, but distant St. Helena, over a thousand miles out into the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean. And just to make sure, they government had occupied the small nearby (only a few hundred miles away) island of Ascension, to prevent anyone using it as a base to launch a rescue attempt. Castiel could only hope that he and Europe had seen the last of the Little General.

“Have you seen my dressing-gown?” Dean called as he came back into the room. “It is not on its usual hook.”

Castiel turned to look at him and, too late, realized what was about to happen. Dean smelt more than good, he smelt absolutely divine! What little rational thought that remained to him melted away as he saw his husband's eyes glow red......

+~+~+

Dean wailed in his distress, and Castiel pulled the alpha closer to him. Thankfully the smell of their mating had rapidly permeated the house, making it clear to even the slowest servants that going anywhere near them now would be tantamount to suicide.

“Neither of us could stop it”, the omega said soothingly. “And presuming it catches, the birth will be nearly two and half years after Cassiel. We will be fine.”

Even as he said it, he wondered. Pamela Barnes had been very clear about waiting as long as possible, and he knew full well that the chances of the pregnancy catching were pretty much one hundred per cent. But his only concern now was the alpha who was sobbing out his apologies into his embrace as he begged forgiveness. Castiel would forgive his husband anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was still commonly believed at the time that any sort of mental problem could be 'caught' in much the same way as a cold, so Castiel's placing of the grain store on the farm would have been doubly effective. And Aumary's fears were grounded in reality; in many places estate workers were paid solely in truck tokens which could only be used at the official estate shop where – and you will find this incredibly hard to believe – prices were very, very high!


	4. Resurgam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. It is a bitter winter in the valley, and the arrival of spring is in name only as a heavy fog hangs over much of England. The choice of name for the new farm-cum-hospital proves unfortunately appropriate as Castiel's pregnancy comes on full-force. He is not the only one expecting, either.And the government does something stupid, so no change there, then.

Amongst the many things that the December 'development' had put on hold was a formal opening of the soldiers' farm-cum-hospital. However, Castiel had re-assured Mrs. Shepherd that there was no reason why the place could not open and delay the official ceremony until later in the year. At least nine months later.

“Why Resurgam?” she had asked. Castiel noted that she stood behind her chair, which at least provided a solid object between herself and the alpha current draped all over him who was growling at her the whole time.

“It is Latin for 'I rise again'”, Castiel explained. “I think it expresses hope for the future, which is important for these men. Have you been able to acquire any more doctors for the place?”

She hesitated.

“A Doctor Edgar Gaines applied”, she said, with obvious reluctance. “He seems well qualified.”

“And yet you are uneasy about him”, Castiel said. “Why?”

“I do not exactly know”, she said. “He seems learned enough, and said all the right things, despite being interviewed by me rather than an M-A-N.”

“Employ him”, Castiel said, “but keep an eye on him. “Also, remind Baldur and the men; if they are at all unhappy at anything there, they can come to me. And no, Dean, you are not to growl when or if they do.”

The alpha blushed. Mrs. Shepherd failed to hide her smile.

+~+~+

Lord, but this had to be his worst pregnancy ever! Castiel was barely a month in, yet he was unable to keep much in the way of food down for any length of time. He felt exhausted and short-tempered, even with his alpha who was clearly torn between being all protective towards him one minute and realizing just how much he was smothering his omega the next.

Today he at least had a visit from his friend Inias, which he had hoped would alleviate some of the stress. Unfortunately his friend had his own problems.

“I have been turned out of my own house”, he sighed, before catching the horrified look on Castiel's face. “Oh, not like that! No, Fitz's noble father and mother are bringing his grandfather for a visit, and they wanted to see their son without his mate.”

“Disgraceful!” Castiel rumbled. “The attitudes of some alphas today. How do they think their grandchildren got there? The stork?”

Inias managed a watery smile.

“Fitz is very upset about it”, he said. “His grandfather is seriously ill and, he says, not long for this world, otherwise he would never have consented to such a request. And he made it clear that if I was against it, he would ignore it anyway.”

“But we omegas live only to serve”, Castiel agreed. “Still, I am sure he will make it up to you later.”

“Castiel!”

“I meant with an expensive present”, Castiel exclaimed, looking hurt. “It is not my fault that you assumed that I meant something more horizontal.”

“That 'woe is me' look only works with your alpha”, Inias laughed. “One day we two will be the elder generation, looking down disapprovingly on the young of our day.”

“Speak for yourself”, Castiel said primly. “I intend to keep young and beautiful forever! Which reminds me, it is Dean's twenty-ninth birthday tomorrow, so I am planning.....”

“Spare me the details, please!”

+~+~+

Castiel had been hoping to go over and see his brother Gabriel at some point, but Colonel Brandon had sent warning that his mate had a sickness bug which, considering everything else that was afflicting Castiel just now, was the last thing that he needed. Hence it was not until the start of the second month that he made his way to Delaford, where a surprise awaited him.

“You too?” Castiel asked. “Your illness, it was not serious?”

He had always envied Gabriel in one way, in that his younger brother never seemed to suffer from any sicknesses during his pregnancies. His husband claimed it was Gabriel's sweet diet, whilst the omega said that it was just his sweet nature that deterred illnesses, and would his husband and brother please not laugh like that? 

Neither omega commented on the fact that, for Gabriel, his next child would arrive over three years after a difficult birth, whereas for Castiel it would be barely two.

“This winter fog is depressing”, Gabriel sighed, sitting down carefully on a couch whilst his husband watched him anxiously. Lucifer was possessive about his mate, but unlike Dean he did not growl at women or omegas who came too close. 

“Yes, I think this may well be a bad year for the countryside”, Castiel said. “Is there any news from London?”

“Only the depressing kind”, Colonel Brandon sighed. “Incredibly, the government are planning to abolish income tax, to help the rich get even richer.”

“Surely they will have to ease the Corn Laws?” Castiel asked. “The pressure for some sort of reform will only increase now there is peace, and starving the poor will make matter worse.”

“Liverpool's lot can only see to the end of their own estates”, the colonel said bitterly. “At least he secured a fair deal for the peace, a lot better than those traitorous Frenchies deserved.”

“There will have to be some reform eventually”, Castiel said. “Especially since the growth of the northern industrial towns, which have no voice in parliament whilst our own area is over-represented.”

“Maybe one day they will even let omegas vote?” Gabriel said hopefully.

“You would just vote for more sweets, beloved!” his husband grinned.

“Yes. And?”

His brother and husband both laughed.

+~+~+

Castiel had wanted to talk with Colonel Brandon about extending the truck system to his own estate workers, so they could benefit from the extra grain that the omega was bringing in. Much of this had to be from abroad; the harvest throughout England the previous year had been poor. And that, of course, meant bringing it through Exeter, which in turn meant that everyone would know about it.

“The townsfolk are all agog”, Frank Devereux said one day. Castiel and Dean had gone down to visit Dean's mother and step-father because they wanted to keep them informed about the pregnancy. Even with the best carriage (and suspension) that money could buy, the journey had been insufferably long for the omega.

“Bet they think Cas is trying to corner the market”, Dean said. “Is there pie?”

His mother looked at the clock and grinned and her husband, who sighed and passed a coin across to her. 

“Could you not have waited another five minutes before asking?” he complained. 

“You were betting on me?” Dean said indignantly.

“I like betting on certainties”, Mary said. “And yes. There is pie.”

“Actually, I think the scent of pie makes me feel nauseous”, Castiel said quietly.

He held it together for an impressive half a minute before his husband's quivering lower lip made him break down in laughter. Dean pouted, but a slice of pie made up for it.

Yes, two slices made up for it even more!

+~+~+

“I see now why you bought all that grain when you did”, Dean said, looking at the newspaper. “The Corn Laws have kicked in and the landowners in parliament are taxing all imports to keep their own incomes up.”

“Is there anything else in the news?” Castiel yawned. Thankfully the sickness had passed, and Pamela Barnes' reässurance the day before that everything was on track had been wonderful. Plus she had swatted Dean for growling at her. 

“Only that the government have abolished the income tax after all”, the alpha sighed. “I know it will make us better off, but I wish they could at least show some care for the people of this country.”

“We shall use the extra money to make sure that the valley folk are well provided for this winter”, Castiel said firmly. “I shall be inviting Father Woodleigh - and the Nonconformist priest Mr. Harken - over to dinner one day soon, and we shall discuss which families should be given extra food.”

Dean sighed. That was the problem with the generosity of people like his wonderful omega, in that there were way too many out there who would abuse it if they got the chance. And Castiel looked particularly good this morning, his stubbled face as gorgeous as ever and his scent.....

Oh. They were entering _that_ part of the pregnancy. 

Castiel gave his alpha a Look. Dean may or may not have trembled.

+~+~+

Two weeks later, Castiel's youngest brother called. Like him, Samandriel's last birth had been a difficult one, complicated even further by the fact that it had been twins.

“Although Con has marked off June the seventh as the first day we can try for another baby”, Samandriel grinned. “And because we do not have the same True Mate bonding as you and Dean, he was able to control himself the one time he did catch me in heat. Even if I did have to have one of the servants throw a bucket of cold water over him!”

Castiel chuckled.

“Alphas!” he smiled. “I had my concerns, but so far Pamela says that everything is working out well enough.”

“Where is Dean?” his brother asked. “I am surprised that he is not all over you, even if it is only another omega in the house.”

Castiel grinned mischievously.

“What is left of him is upstairs”, he said. “That's the upside of the True Mate bonding – I get to break my poor alpha through too much.....”

“I have no brother!”

+~+~+

Thankfully for the servants (and for Dean's poor, broken body), that stage of Castiel's pregnancy only lasted a further week, which meant that they were able to attend the one social event they actually wanted to, namely the wedding of Sir Robert's elder daughter Lady Caroline Middleton to a Scots landowner called James Stewart. They had met during one of her father's infrequent stays in London, and he was even a distant relation to Crowley, both their mothers being MacLeods. 

“He really is very handsome”, Castiel said, looking at his alpha with a knowing smile. “And I do admire him for wearing his kilt in this dreadful weather.”

“I could wear a dress like that!” Dean scoffed.

One of these days, a certain alpha would learn to engage his brain before setting his mouth in motion. Unfortunately for said certain alpha, today was not that day. Castiel was giving him another Look.

Dean gulped.

“Cas!” he hissed. “We are in public!”

“And later we will be in private”, his omega countered. “True Scotsmen, it is said, do not wear anything under their kilts. You have a degree of Scots blood yourself, Dean, your mother having been a Campbell though thankfully not from the same branch as that ghastly Alistair. I think that when we get home, we should investigate just how you look in such a 'dress'.”

"Like you'll find a kilt at short notice", Dean said, not sweating at all. "The only thing we have even remotely similar is that dress Charlie made me wear that one time when we re-enacted...."

Oh Lord help him. The Smile of Doom!

Behind him, he could see Sir Robert rolling his eyes at him, whilst Crowley just smirked. For Dean, it was going to be a long, hard day.

+~+~+

It was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original income tax varied from 0.8% to 10% on incomes between £6,000 ($8,000) and £20,000 ($26,000) at 2017 prices. When it was abolished that year, the government bowed to public demands and held a public fire at which they burnt all the records used in its collection – but they secretly kept copies, and twenty-five years later, the tax was reintroduced as 'a temporary measure'.


	5. Starting A Riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. An illness means that Castiel misses the wedding of the year, but on the bright side he does not have to go to London whilst pregnant. The continuing bad weather forces grain prices ever higher, yet the Corn Laws prevent people from buying cheap foreign grain, and Castiel comes under pressure from his fellow nobles over his 'unwonted generosity to the lower orders', prompting a bloody incident.

Spring had supposedly arrived in the valley, although it was hard to tell as the heavy fogs that had dominated winter persisted on most days. Castiel felt tired and irritable as his pregnancy slowly progressed, and kept himself busy by arranging his food storage programme.

Today he had a visitor, Mrs. Shepherd. Castiel suspected that she must have seen Dean in town (Castiel had asked him to fetch some toys that Rufus and Ross Turner were making for their children) and had decided that now would be a good time to visit. It was fortunate, as he had wanted to see her anyway.

“I am concerned about this story Dean heard around the town”, he said. “They are saying that one of the soldiers attacked two local boys who were walking home one evening recently.”

She smiled knowingly. 

“Of course I know that there must be more to it than that”, Castiel continued. “For one thing, the farm is not on the road to or from anywhere. I am guessing that they thought they could help themselves to some free grain?”

She nodded.

“We have been expecting something”, she said. “Two of the local boys were boasting as to how they were going to help themselves to the grain, because their family is about the only one in the village that does not work on the estate. So Bay and his friends prepared a little surprise for them.”

Castiel smiled.

“And now the story is going around the valley that the grain store is guarded by some complete lunatics with guns and knives”, he said. “Well, that is one way of keeping troublemakers away. And talking of troublemakers, I am sorry about Doctor Gaines.”

Her face darkened.

“I was right about him”, she said angrily. “He tried something on with one of the maids, and Bay and the lads 'persuaded' him that it was time to leave.”

Castiel had a good idea as to just what form that 'persuasion' had taken. He could not but approve.

“We may have trouble yet”, he said. “There are stories of small uprisings in some parts of the country where people cannot afford the grain to make bread.”

“We will be ready for any trouble”, she said firmly.

+~+~+

The heavy fogs continued, and Castiel found that even his daily walks had to be curtailed as he would arrive home sopping wet, and be fussed over by an over-anxious alpha. He knew that Dean was instinctively more protective because of his pregnancy, but sometimes the alpha was just too much.

One day, near the end of the month, the omega arrived home to a Dean-less house. He was surprised until he remembered that it was the monthly meeting of the local landowners in town. He sighed; Dean hated attending those things with all the other alphas, especially as he felt that it ought to be Castiel's job. Sometimes the omega was tempted to indeed attend, just to see how many alphas he could cause to have a nervous breakdown in the one room!

His husband arrived home half an hour later, and one look at his face told the omega that things had not gone well. That and the fact he went straight up to Castiel and spent at least ten minutes nuzzling his claiming mark, something he usually only did when upset and/or possessive. His mate waited patiently for him to calm down a little.

“It was horrible!” Dean grumbled. “They were all complaining about your storing grain and not charging full price for it. They fleece their own poor workers, then whine when someone else does not do the same and exposes them for the bastards that they are!”

Castiel shook his head in resignation.

“It is not as if we are selling grain to their workers”, he said plaintively. “That is the point of the truck tokens; only those on our own estate can get it, plus those who are really desperate.”

“That ghastly Alistair was the lead complainer”, Dean said. “I can see that the idea of actually caring for the less fortunate would be beyond someone like him.”

“What was he doing there?” Castiel asked, surprised. “His father's estate is over the border into Somersetshire.”

“It seems Azazel has hived off the two farms he owns in our county for his useless spawn to mismanage”, Dean said. “Alistair said that there was nothing to stop our estate workers from selling on their grain at a profit.”

“Only if they want to starve”, Castiel said. “If Alistair has a problem with that, then he can shove his objections where the sun does not shine!”

“I would help him!” Dean muttered.

+~+~+

“I would have thought that you and Castiel would be headed to London for the Princess of Wales' wedding”, Jo said as Dean sat down at his usual table in the restaurant. 

“He is feeling under the weather with his pregnancy, although Pamela says that everything is still all right”, Dean said. “We were invited, but even with my new coach I would not subject Cas to such a long trip unless he demanded it.”

“The usual?” Ellen asked, coming up behind her daughter.

“Everything except the pie.”

Both women stared at him, aghast.

“You are refusing pie?” Ellen asked incredulously. “Are you sure that you are not the one expecting?”

“Very funny!” Dean groused. “No, Cas' latest craving is, of all the damn things in the universe, pie. And if I have one away from the house, he will know.”

“How?” Joanna asked.

“He always knows with Dean”, Ellen grinned. “Tell you what, there's one slice left on the pie in the kitchen. You can have that, and take the fruit pie I was going to put in the pantry home for your omega.”

Dean smiled at her.

“Thank you”, he said. “Cas will be so grateful.”

“Just make sure that you are grateful enough not to provide me with any details!” she called out as she headed off to fetch his pies.

+~+~+

It was young Cassiel's second birthday, although the celebrations were muted by his papa feeling under the weather. The continuing heavy fog was not helping, either. 

“What do you think of young Lord Markham?” Dean asked. Emmanuel Markham was a distant cousin of the Ferrers family who was visiting the area area from his home in the Isle of Ely, and was staying at Barton Park because, being a sensible young beta, he knew better than to be around an alpha and his pregnant omega mate. Dean owed Sir Robert for that.

“He seems nice enough”, he said carefully. 

“I rather think that young Daphne is enamoured of him”, Castiel said. “She was paying quite close attention to him at dinner the other night.”

“I did not notice that”, Dean said.

“You were too busy growling at the servants every time they brought food anywhere near me”, Castiel teased. “It would be something for Bobby to get both his daughters married off so soon. I wonder how his son and heir will fare in the marriage stakes?”

“He may get lucky, and find an attractive omega”, Dean said. “I did.”

Castiel blushed.

+~+~+

It was, according to the calendar, the first day of summer. Outside the heavy fog had been replaced with a lighter one. Castiel was worried.

“There are reports of riots from around the country”, he observed as he read the paper. “I do not like it. Surely the government will relax the Corn Laws soon?”

“Would that not make your grain plans redundant?” Dean asked.

“I would not mind if they did”, Castiel said, “if it spared the people from suffering. By the way, why did you not tell me about the meeting yesterday?”

Dean blushed fiercely.

“I did not want to worry you”, he said. “It is only three months now.”

“Finding out from the staff that my husband was involved in a fight did worry me”, Castiel said, feeling a little annoyed. “Although as it was with that ghastly Alistair Campbell, I can pretty much guess how things fell out.”

Dean nodded.

“He said that I was being ruled by my omega, and that you should not be allowed out in public”, he said angrily. “And that you were getting ideas above your station. So I placed my fist above his nose and decked the bastard.”

Castiel sighed.

“Violence solves nothing”, he said, “but in this case I think it was justified. Although the fact that you did not tell me is disappointing. I think there should be a penalty.”

His husband had gone pale.

“What sort of penalty?” he said, in an impressively high voice for an alpha.

“No pie for three......”

Dean's lower lip quivered.

“Days.”

The sigh of relief was palpable.

+~+~+

It was not just Dean who had issues of self-control, as Castiel discovered when Diniel came to him one day and told him something most surprising. Castiel waited until he had gone away before smiling to himself, then straightened his face and sent for his eldest son. Scaden came in looking happy enough, which was unsurprising as it was his sixth birthday tomorrow.

“You are aware that your father was involved in some fighting at his last town meeting”, Castiel began. 

Scaden nodded dutifully, but remained silent.

“I am surprised that neither you nor Diniel came to tell me about it”, Castiel said airily, “especially since you were both waiting for him after the meeting.”

“He told us not..... I mean, I forgot”, the boy finished lamely.”

“I do think that it is dreadful when someone in my family gets into a fight”, Castiel said severely. “And in such cases, I think absolute honesty is essential. I am sure that you see my point, son?”

“Yes, papa.”

A pause.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Another pause.

“No, papa.”

“Very well, son”, Castiel smiled. “You may go.”

His son turned, and did not hold his sigh of relief in. Castiel grinned.

“And son?”

“Yes, papa?”

“No taking things out on your younger brother. It was not his fault that you got beaten up by an omega.”

His eldest son's look was one of complete betrayal.

+~+~+

“By an omega?” Dean asked incredulously. “Who? And why did Dino not tell me?”

“Because the fast-moving omega was Jesse, Alistair's erstwhile nephew”, Castiel explained. “Bearing in mind what had happened, he did not wish to further exacerbate matters. And naturally Scaden was too embarrassed.”

“I shall have to give him lessons in.....”

Dean stopped. His mate was looking sharply at him.

“In.... uh.... um...honesty?” Dean finished weakly.

“Better start with yourself!” Castiel said with a smile.

+~+~+

Five days later, Castiel fell sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strictly speaking, the title 'Princess of Wales' belonged to the Prince Regent's estranged wife Caroline of Brunswick, but was commonly used for their daughter Charlotte, who was second-in-line to the throne after her useless lump of a father. Charlotte's marriage was to Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, a distant cousin and uncle to Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert, but sadly she died in childbirth the following year. In the resultant mad scramble by King George III's elderly sons to produce an heir, his fourth son Edward Duke of Kent, married to Leo's sister Victoire, eventually (1819) had a daughter, Alexandrina Victoria. Leo got the consolation prize; he became King of a newly-independent Belgium in 1831.


	6. Lessons Learned?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Castiel's pregnancy comes to a bumpy but successful conclusion, during which he proves even more inventive than usual in telling his husband what he intends to do to and with him. The omega's food preparations turn out to have been fully merited, someone else in his family falls pregnant, the government chooses a bad time to re-coin the currency, and a peaceful protest turns ugly.

Fortunately Castiel's illness was short-lived, although it left his husband more worried than ever. Summer had belatedly put in an appearance in the valley, and they had actually enjoyed two consecutive days without fog. Unfortunately they were now up to day seven of its return, with little if any sign of it abating.

“At least the government is doing something right for once”, Castiel sighed as he eased his bloated form onto the couch, his alpha clearly torn between fussing over him and keeping his distance. “The Royal Navy is bombarding those vile Barbary pirates in North Africa, to stop their dreadful slave trade.”

The omega winced, and Dean helped him move the cushion to a better position.

“Thank you, beloved”, Castiel smiled. “I think it may well be a beta this time; it is definitely not a well-behaved omega with the way it keeps moving about.”

“Pamela said that everything was fine”, Dean said, partly to assure himself. 

“She did”, Castiel agreed. “And she has agreed to move in here for the two weeks prior to the birth, so she can be on hand rather than in her cottage, miles away.”

Dean was still nervous. But he tried to hide it from his mate.

+~+~+

“When were you going to tell me?”

Samandriel Dorrington jumped, and stared guiltily at his brother.

“What?” he asked.

“That you were expecting”, Castiel said placidly. “I suppose you and Con thought to spare me, but I am still happy for you.”

His younger brother smiled in relief. He had had his own set of twins some two years back, Tempus and D'Arcy, and Castiel had then been worried for his survival. Fortunately both he and the children had come through it, and now he was expecting a fourth child.

“Con was so apologetic”, Samandriel said with a smile. “Alphas!”

“Yet they call us the weaker vessels!” Castiel scoffed. “We do all the work for nine months, then they come along and take all the credit. Typical!”

They both laughed.

+~+~+

It was harvest festival, although the lack of any real harvest was most definitely placing a damper on the annual celebrations. The dreadful weather throughout the year meant that the celebrations this year were decidedly muted.

Castiel squinted as he looked at the display on the little church's altar (he would have to visit Exeter and get glasses some day soon, but that was all right as Dean would need them too). It was traditional to have a corn dolly made out of wheat sheaves – but this year someone had instead created a corn angel, with long sweeping wings. And there was a sign in front of it saying 'we give thanks for the angel of the valley'.

The omega blushed fiercely.

+~+~+

Castiel waited until they were in their carriage before speaking (normally he would have walked down to the church in the village, but Dean would not hear of such a thing 'in his condition'). 

You have some news?” he asked.

Dean promptly displayed his 'how can I keep anything from my omega mate?' face, one part annoyance and three parts love.

“There is news from Somersetshire”, he said quietly. “Azazel Campbell is dead, and Alastair has inherited Stoke House.”

Castiel looked hard at him.

“And?” he pressed. “You have that look about you that says you are still keeping something from me.”

Dean sighed.

“There is a rumour that the late Lord Azazel's death may not have been accidental”, he said. “A servant in the stables claimed that he found a chestnut burr in his late master's saddle, and that it may have been that that caused his horse to bolt when it did.”

Castiel hesitated. He did not want to think ill of anyone, but surely no man would kill their own father in order to inherit the title and lands a little earlier?

Except, a little voice whispered at the back of his mind, Alastair Campbell.

+~+~+

“I am sure that God had his reasons. Not very clear ones, perhaps, but doubtless they suited Him.”

“Well, they do say that he moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.”

The second voice was that of a woman. What was a woman doing in their bedroom, Dean wondered. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. And why was he lying on an uncomfortably hard floor in the sitting-room?

The figure of Pamela Barnes, looking tired but exultant, swam into view.

“Hullo, alpha”, she grinned. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

That was when the back of Dean's head decided to inform the rest of him that it hurt. Slowly, it all came back to him. Not again!

“Yes, you fainted”, came his husband's put-upon voice. “Again! Poor Pamela had to just work around you. Oh, and you have a beta son, by the way.”

Groaning, Dean pulled himself upright, grabbing a mercifully solid chair to steady himself as his vision settled. There was his mate, sat on a makeshift bed, and in his arms a cute little beta.

“What are you naming him?” Dean asked. Technically it was his turn to name a child, but his all-too-predictable collapse had pretty much robbed him of any rights there.

“Anything I want?” Castiel asked, looking a little uncertain.

“Uh.....”

“Anaximander.”

Dean blinked. Several times.

“Who was that?” he asked. “Sounds Latin.”

“Greek, actually”, Pamela said, cleaning the omega up. “Pythagoras' teacher.”

“I was reading a book about him when I went into labour”, Castiel said. “And gripping it during the whole delivery, when a certain alpha” - he looked pointedly at his husband - “might have been there for me for a change, rather than fainting at the sight of a little blood. Again!”

Dean blushed.

“Anaximander it is”, he agreed. 

Pamela coughed into her hand. Dean had the almost certain suspicion that she may have muttered the word 'whipped'.

+~+~+

“I have called you here today”, Dean said as he addressed his estate workers, “because of the government's re-coinage. Of course my mate would have liked to have been here, but he is attending to the latest addition to our family.”

“We heard”, one of the men grinned. “Straight up, our Lord Castiel. No dodging or, ahem, 'feinting'.”

Several of the other men sniggered. Dean silently cursed Pamela Barnes and her big mouth.

“As you know”, he said, not blushing, “the government are recalling all old coins and re-issuing new ones in their place. Naturally all this extra money will cause prices to rise. Therefore my mate and I have agreed....”

There was a loud hissed “means he was told”, followed by several sniggers. Dean glared at the malefactor, but continued.

“My mate and I have agreed that until the end of this year, anyone with a truck token can exchange the old coins for their full value”, he said.

This, he knew, was a much bigger deal than it may first have seemed. Many landowners were taking advantage of the re-coinage, buying in lots of the new coins then forcing their workers to exchange their old ones at a considerable loss. He was silently proud that his Castiel, despite being so preöccupied with Anaximander, had found time to consider his workers. 

“And in lieu of the usual Christmas coin presented to each estate worker, this year will see all of you gifted an extra allocation of grain”, Dean said. “This will be distributed in the second week of December, so you can use the extra food for Christmas.”

His men all cheered him. Well, they cheered Castiel, but it was the same thing.

Yes it was!

+~+~+

Sir Robert and Laird Crowley were spending Christmas away with friends up in Yorkshire this year, so Castiel and Dean attended a Christmas dinner with them in the middle of the month. It was snowing lightly outside, but the skies were leaden with the menace of much more to come. Dean did not envy his friend a trip in this weather.

“There has been a riot in London”, Sir Robert said, frowning as he read the newspaper. “At the Spa Fields, in Islington.”

“Was that not where they were planning to draw up a petition to the Prince Regent last month?” Castiel asked. Sir Robert nodded.

“He declined to accept it”, he said. “Foolish, foolish man. There were ten thousand last month, and now twice as many. The newspapers say that anarchists were behind the trouble.”

“More likely government provocateurs”, Crowley said acidly. “Liverpool's lot are determined to stop reform at any cost.”

(Very annoyingly, Dean would have to pay a forfeit to his mate some months later when Crowley's cynicism turned out to be totally justified. Then again, Dean always enjoyed such forfeits!).

“It is all very wrong”, Castiel said sadly. “Knife.”

There was a clatter, and both Dean and his eldest son dropped their forks and looked guiltily along the table. Crowley laughed, and even Sir Robert could not suppress a smile.

“Life goes on”, the latter said cheerily. “I think they will have to buckle in the end, but it will be a long, hard fight. Young Stephen says that he wants to be a member of parliament when he is older, so maybe by that time things will have improved. Although I suppose it would mean an end to seats like Three Bartons.”

“It will not affect us much”, Dean said confidently. “London is another world as far as remote areas like this are concerned.”

Ah.

ΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩ

Ah indeed. The (mis-)adventures of Georgian Cas and Dean continue in the next installment of _The Dashwood Inheritance: Fireworks And Firestorms_ , set some eight years into a future where being an omega in a world run by alphas can be difficult – and sometimes deadly! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For centuries before the 1807 abolition of the slave trade, the Barbary pirates (from modern Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia and Libya) had regularly raided British and Irish coasts and carried away slaves some of which they later ransomed. In an act which many modern 'historians' would rather was not widely known, the British expended much money and many sailors' lives in their attempt to destroy the African salve trade during the nineteenth century. It was somewhat ineffectual until an 1842 treaty with the United States brought the co-operation and occasional assistance of that country. Strangely those people demanding reparations for slavery seem to have 'missed' these countries for some reason.....


End file.
